When the Doves Cry
by HuffynDK
Summary: WARNING: Suicidal thinking, sexuality, depression, non/con, panic attacks, medical squick, OT3: house/cuddy/wilson The doves cry for Dr. Wilson. Can Lisa and Greg pull him back before he's gone for good? Can Jim face past traumas without it breaking him?
1. Chapter 1

WARNINGS: Discussion of abuse, religion, suicide, sexuality, depression, and well a romance of House/Cuddy/Wilson. This is not for Cuddy haters or ESPECIALLY NOT for Wilson haters.

Ch1: Gibraltar Crumbles

He made sure everything was dark. He wanted the surroundings to be as dark and empty as he felt inside. He once meant something to someone, now he'd meant nothing to no one. He tried to figure out if he would make any changes to his life, if he could know then what he knew now. No, he wouldn't. He'd sold a large chunk of his heart, his soul, his ethics, his everything away the day he met his brilliant but tortured friend. He'd freely given to try to make him whole. He'd sold his soul to more demons then he could imagine. It had left him branded a Judus. It had left him as the recipient for everyone's poison and hatred. He knew Greg cursed him daily for letting him live when deep down all Greg wanted to do was die, in as great of a blaze of glory as he could muster. Greg would too. Greg would die blazing among fireworks, lighting the skies. He'd die in the arms of Chase or Cuddy or one of the others. He used to dream Greg would be in his arms. He used to dream Greg would one day feel he was enough, he was enough of a quest, enough windmill for Greg to chase after.

He wasn't. He was cursed to love someone who would never love him in return. His mother had been the same way and he took after the good hearted woman. He just couldn't make it fifty years as she had. He couldn't take the pain anymore. He'd been the bastard to try to save House from his addictions before they found him dead somewhere. He'd been the one to give the tough love even as it ripped and tore his heart to shreds. He'd given Trotter his body to save House from hell. Some nights in the dark he could still feel the apes cold, rough hands all over him. He could still feel and smell the man's filth no matter how many hot showers he took or other partners he found. The only thing that made it livable was imagining it was Greg's hands instead, the hands that would never be there - the hands that Cuddy now had.

He neatly stacked up the notes telling people goodbye. He had to do that. Danny had never said goodbye and it left a gaping hole in him that nothing filled. He'd been warned by Nolan things could be like this but Nolan kept convincing him he'd done the right thing. Greg was better but now Greg didn't want him since he didn't need him. James forced a sad smile. He could never hate Greg. It would be like hating half of his heart or hating half of his soul. He guessed though that all stories needed to have a villain. All people just needed someone to blame and well, such was his fate. He'd saved some lives but he wasn't surprised to end up leaving the world as alone as he had entered it. He hated though being accused of being a Judas. He'd lost many wives and girlfriends once they discovered who was number one on his speed dial and who he refused to move for any place else. He did absent mindedly wonder if anyone had him as number one. He doubted it. He might make the top ten somewhere but nah. He'd known where he stood when Amber died and no one could understand how pain could make you fire back the hurt that had been you'd observed for years. He loathed himself more then anyone else could. Grief and guilt and other peoples hate were a great cocktail for keeping one's self esteem. He knew it could go no differently though. He was James Wilson, the accepted saint of lost causes and souls for whom perfection at all times wasn't the ideal, it was mandatory.

He now just had to decide what he was going to do. He had to only decide the method and maybe the after life could find him the peace and love this life had proven too elusive. It did comfort him to know between Cuddy and the crew, Greg would never be lonely. Greg would move on just fine, provided Greg even registered his being gone as anything other then a minor inconvenience. He had become the bastard everyone could lay the harm of everything at the feet of. He didn't ever though want Greg to know what he'd done to free him from Trotter. Greg didn't need that pain, but he'd sealed it. It was to go to the police and maybe one day no one else would ever be used that vially to save another.

He debated fleeing. He could maybe just try to run. He could maybe start his life again in parts unknown. He could maybe run away to Mexico and drink pina coladas on the sand, watch topless girls run in the sands, and imagine his heart was there. No, his heart belonged here at PPTH. He'd prostituted himself to too many donors, male and female, to not feel possessive. He would never tell Lisa how he'd secured her whims. He'd rather let her think her friend had the magic touch then here friend was little better then a whore on both sides of the plate. Greg would be furious and Lisa would feel sympathy and he could feel nothing anymore. He'd been forced though to use his body all his life. He'd been found to be an appealing source of funds and appeasing alumni in med school. He felt disgusted and violated to start with. After a while, he just went numb, simply draining away his soul, a drop there, a gush there. He felt at least he'd done something with his soul to make this world a better place with its demise. He knew that was better then many people could say.

He knew he was condemned. He knew the moment he tried to liberate himself from the pain he would find no peace. He would have committed the most unforgivable sin on his face. He would be dead to his family, to his synagogue, to his community. He would be forced to wander the spiritual desert for all eternity. He'd be a liar not to say the thought didn't terrify him and fill him with sadness. It did. His perfect scenario would end with Greg finally viewing James as enough, as worth as much as the vicodin, as all the booze and pain killers. He wished he could grow boobs and a great ass and become whatever was needed for Greg to love. No, he was the 'false friend', the 'heartless bastard', the 'evil incarnate' one, the one who was wrecking the lives of everyone with the misfortune of crossing his path. James Wilson had no heart. They were right. His heart was spread out across New Jersey over the bed sheets or lounges, or ground of countless places he'd whored himself to buy time or money for friends or for PPTH. The only good part of his heart left was beating inside Greg House.

His shaky hands loaded the hand gun. He removed the safety. He debated praying one final time but he couldn't figure out what to ask for, or even how. He also didn't feel worthy of taking anyone else's time. He pointed the gun to his head. He heard the door kick in just as he pulled the trigger. He felt a sad irony of thinking he'd just heard Lisa and Greg shout his name. At least he could wander eternity with the sweet sound of "Jimmy" singing in his ears.

TBC


	2. Update

I wanted to invite you to a fanfic exchange list which is open to multiple fandoms. It is for people to request specific stories you would like to have written. It is though for either gen or slash. Here is the link and I hope to see you there.

.com/the_ff_exchange/

Want to reassure you I haven't abandoned this, nor any of my stories, not by a long shot Just have undergone some medical testing that took priority in my mind and choked out the muses for a while. I appreciate your patience in bearing with me. All my stories will be updated this weekend.

Huffy


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